


All That Glitters is Gabe

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Assistant Castiel (Supernatural), Designer Sam Winchester, M/M, Model Dean Winchester, Photographer Gabriel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 19:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14432271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: Dean is a mechanic. But he’s also a big brother. So when Sam needs him to model his latest designs for his big break, he steps up. He’s heard this Gabriel guy is a big shot in the industry, who makes or breaks designers and loathes models. But Dean can handle him. It’s Gabriel’s hot personal assistant that’s throwing Dean off his game.





	1. Untouchable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dmsilvis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dmsilvis/gifts).



Like a lot of things in Dean’s life, this whole thing had begun as a way to help out his brother. There was, officially, nothing he wouldn’t do for that kid, which he knew because he had now done everything. 

Dean could remember a time when Sam couldn’t draw to save his life, when the kid once tried to draw the three little pigs, and it was everything Dean could do to keep from laughing. He had praised the attempt, and put it on the refrigerator, because that was what Mary had done with his own horrible artwork at around the same age. When he had caught John smirking at it that night, he had glowered protectively in warning, and then they had just smiled at one another when John had told Sam how wonderful it looked. So Sam had been convinced he was an artistic prodigy by the time he was in first grade. 

It turned out that the little guy, by the time he had become a big guy, had some real talent. After years of talking about drafting and architecture, Sam finally admitted that fashion design was his true passion. Once John had recovered from that, he had shrugged and said he didn’t care, so long as Sam could pay his own bills after college. Anything between the Marines and nothing was acceptable to their father, which was a relief to Sam and stressful to Dean, since the Marines was the only option he could think of other than nothing. That and being a rockstar, but it turned out the talent in the family had been used up by Sam in order to bring weird clothing designs to life. 

So he had worked on cars, because that was on the acceptable spectrum, and he was good at it. It also paid Sam’s bills after college. 

It had taken a while before the guy had broken into the design world, but he had been diligent and had worked tirelessly, until he had carved out a niche for himself, and some big shots had taken notice. 

Dean had often been Sam’s reluctant model, for countless projects. Mostly, it had consisted of “Okay, just turn a little so I can see how it’s going to move.” And Dean didn’t know much about what he was doing, but Sam always appreciated him, so he never minded much, except that one time Sam burst in during the Wildcats championship game in the fourth quarter with a measuring tape and pins. He had put his foot down and instituted the ban on “freaking emergency Ken Doll Dean makeover parties” during ball games after that, and there had been peace in the apartment ever since. 

So he probably should have seen this coming. 

He glowered darkly at his brother in the mirror. “I’m a painted whore.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, you’re wearing the most basic-I could have done a lot more. Stop touching it! Do you want your whole face to look flat in photos?”

“I hate you a little bit right now.”

“I know you do. But really you should hate Michael. He’s the one who bailed on me last minute. I’m just lucky you two have almost the same build. A few adjustments was all it took. I need to get back to lighting. Are you good?”

“Peachy,” he snapped. 

Sam ground his teeth. “I’ll never understand how I’m the straight brother. Your masculinity is so freaking fragile! I swear to god, Dean, if you-“

“Go! I know. I know how important this is for you. Just go. Do the interview and whatever. I’m ready to be pretty. Go.” He fussed with his collar. Michael’s shoulders weren’t quite so broad. It felt tight, but Sam had said it was supposed to be, so...

His brother sighed in defeat. “There’s nothing else I can do,” he murmured to himself. 

Dean looked back at him. “Hey. That’s because you’ve done it all. Okay? You’re good. Do your interview, and smile. I can fake my way through this. I promise. Then you owe me steak. With a side of cheeseburger.”

At last, Sam smirked at him. He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay. My jacket does amazing stuff for you, dude. If I can make you look good, I call it a win.”

He winked. “I make your jacket look good, bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam laughed back. Then the young man took another, deeper breath and hurried out toward the cameras. Dean noticed his kid brother also looked like he belonged in magazines, with his light, trendy glasses, his smart and modern fitted brown suit, his long hair styled back in a savvy wave. 

Ordinarily, Dean would consider them complete opposites. But not today. Today, Dean wore a charcoal suit that made him look like he belonged at the side of Eliot Ness. It was a three-piece double breasted suit, with a white shirt and blue patterned tie, complete with matching fedora and long overcoat. His hair was slicked down, and anyone could believe he had walked straight out of the 1940s, except that Sam’s design was weirdly comfortable in a way Dean guessed the ‘40s really hadn’t been. 

“The Chicago way,” he muttered at the mirror. “Well, at least the jackass didn’t put me in some kind of weird abstract crap. I can be one of the Untouchables for long enough to get him through today.”

Someone drew in a strangely stuttered breath nearby, as if that someone were trying to decide whether or not to speak. 

Dean turned, carefully so as not to mess up his costume. Was it a costume? He supposed it was. 

The man standing off to the side of the studio’s little dressing area put a stop to Dean’s wandering thoughts. He was in a blue sweater vest over a white button down and slacks; clearly not one of the models then. But he was beautiful in a sort of way that made Dean’s breath immediately go shallow. 

“Hello?” he said voicelessly. He hurried to clear his throat and stand. “Hey.”

The man in blue stood very still. “Yes,” he mumbled, as if answering a question Dean hadn’t asked. “Yeah, you’re-you’re the designer’s brother.” The voice was startlingly deep. 

He nodded. “I’m Dean Winchester. You’re the, uh…” He had no idea who this guy was. 

“No,” the man corrected, which was weird since Dean hadn’t guessed. “I’m Cas. Castiel Palladino. I’m just here to-to show you where to go for the shoot.”

“Oh! Okay. I’ve-I’ve never-Okay.”

Castiel’s handsome face softened. “You’ve never done this before. I can help walk you through it. I’m the personal assistant to-to the photographer, Gabriel Brillare.” He stopped and began to smile. “You’re not a model, are you?”

Dean wondered how he had managed to make that obvious already. “I’m really not. I’m...I’m a mechanic. Like you said...I’m the designer’s brother. His model bailed on him. And the clothes are my size, so…”

The man stepped closer, and held out his hand for Dean to take. 

He stared. This man’s blue eyes were incredible, he realized suddenly, and wide with sincerity. Dean’s heart began to race as he placed his hand in Castiel’s. 

The assistant rewarded him with another soft smile, and turned to lead him through the studio. “You know who Gabriel is, of course.”

Dean’s brain snapped to attention. This was important. It was for Sam. “Uh, he’s the, uh...photographer.”

Castiel smirked and gave a snort. He stopped them just before entering a closed room. “Listen. He’s a legend in this business. And he can make or break designers. He can’t stand a conceited designer. He’ll throw your brother into the black hole of anonymity if he’s arrogant. But he didn’t seem to be that kind.”

Dean’s eyes were wide, and he shook his head. “No. If-if anything, the guy needs more confidence.”

The assistant nodded. “Right. He’ll be okay. Gabe might mess with him, but he’s not going to destroy his career for fun unless he’s a douche.”

Well, Sam was safe then. Sam couldn’t even pretend to be conceited, except with Dean. Even then, he was mostly just adorable. 

“Models are a different story.”

Dean was already nodding when he realized that meant him. “Wait. What?”

“Gabe. He’s going to be a complete jackass to you, just because he can be. Listen. Most models come in here knowing how to handle him, but you don’t have that experience. He’s going to eat you alive,” Castiel added, almost to himself. 

“I can handle it,” Dean assured him. 

“Yeah,” he answered in a sad tone. “You’ll have to. Look, just don’t let him get to you. Okay? Listen to his direction, no matter how he gives it. His delivery is brutal, but he knows what he’s doing, and he will expect you to hear the subtle directions under whatever else he’s saying. Okay? Just...brace yourself. He’s unpredictable.” Suddenly, Castiel’s eyes took on a bit of mischief. “And...tell you what. If you survive the shoot, dinner is on me.”

Dean stared at him, wondering if he was somehow being teased, wondering if his sexual preferences were being amplified by the stupid makeup and clothes, or if he was just that obviously intrigued by this guy. “Yeah,” he murmured finally. “Yeah, okay.” Steaks with a side of cheeseburger with Sam could happen anytime. If he could get through this without screwing up Sam’s career and his own dignity, he would absolutely deserve a night out with a handsome guy.


	2. Golden

Castiel folded his arms across his chest and heaved a sigh. 

The great and powerful Gabriel was in top form today. Normally, Castiel didn’t have so much sympathy for the models who were subjected to the ego of his boss. But he had seen the way Gabriel’s eyes had narrowed upon first glimpse of Dean Winchester, and Castiel had flinched in empathy. This poor guy had everything going against him. 

For one thing, Dean was beautiful. That was truly the worst of it. The inexperience and awkwardness only made things more cringeworthy, but it all came down to that. Dean was golden. 

All the models who wandered through the studio were pretty, in one way or another. But their job was to show the clothes. They were trained to let the clothing speak, while they simply displayed the designer’s vision. Any model who consistently called attention to him or herself instead would be unemployed before long. Gabriel was looking to capture Sam’s talent, not Dean’s personality. 

But Dean wasn’t trained. He certainly wasn’t trying to draw attention to himself. It was like he couldn’t help it. He took direction like a soldier, doing exactly what Gabriel told him, without reacting at all to the way Gabriel told him. There was one moment when Gabriel had him take off his jacket to reveal the vest beneath, and roll his white sleeves up, and Dean raised an eyebrow as he did so, and it nearly burned Castiel to the ground where he stood. His lips parted in awe. 

“He’s doing okay, right?”

Castiel cleared his throat quickly. “Yes, he’s-he’s really very…” Beautiful. Crushingly handsome. Captivating. “The suit is gorgeous.”

The designer smiled at him. The poor kid looked exhausted. “Then why do you look like you want to fly in and save him?”

He took a deep breath and chose his words carefully. “He doesn’t need saving. But he deserves it. Gabe...He’s been rough on him. And I love Gabe. He’s like my brother, and he’s amazing at what he does. But he’s a jealous god, you know?”

Sam was watching his brother, but he glanced sidelong at Castiel. “What do you mean?”

Castiel smirked. “Gabriel is used to outshining every model who comes in here. He’s got an eye for beauty, but zero respect for the people behind it. He considers himself far more important to your work than the man wearing it. If the spread looks good in the end, it’s because he’s gifted, not because the model is. Gabriel says it’s the job of the model to be as unassuming as possible, so that the fashion isn’t cluttered by the model’s ego.”

“I don’t think he has to worry about that with Dean. He’s completely uncomfortable being here, doing this. If anything, the guy could use far more confidence.”

Castiel smiled at Sam fondly. Dean had said nearly the same about him. “It isn’t Dean’s arrogance that is bringing out Gabriel’s wickedness. Dean is...He’s truly something incredible. He has a charisma that Gabriel sees as competition.”

Sam frowned then. 

“After all,” Castiel sighed, “Gabriel is notorious in this business. No one shines brighter than he does.” He huffed a tiny laugh. “I’m pretty sure that’s why he keeps me around. I’m no threat. We go to one of his friends’ glittery parties, and he knows no one is looking at me when they’ve been blinded by his presence.” He shook his head. “But a guy like Dean? Who could be made of solid gold, and wouldn’t even know it? That’s stepping into Gabe’s space.”

All of the sudden, Sam’s own handsome face went pale. “Gabriel and I talked about me and Dean joining you guys out at a party tomorrow night. It’s my chance to meet Max Banes.”

Castiel hummed quietly. “A meet and greet with him and his sister could be an opportunity of a lifetime for a young designer,” he said neutrally. Then he smiled again. “And I know both Max and Alicia would both enjoy meeting you and Dean. They are the beautiful people that the beautiful people talk about, Sam. Have you ever seen them up close?”

“No. I’ve never seen either of them in person. I’ve worked with folks who have worked with them, but that’s it.”

“They personify sex and power, Sam. But even they step back when Gabriel enters the room. He’s a charismatic phenomenon, in a world full of eccentricity. So be very sure before you bring a man like Dean into his turf.”

Sam stared at him. “A-a man like Dean...Uh, it’s not Gabe’s party. Max Banes is hosting.”

“Yeah. But every turf Gabriel steps onto is his.”

“What do you mean, a man like Dean?”

Castiel watched the model turn a smoldering glower toward the camera, and couldn’t help licking his own lips. “He’s amazing. If he turns eyes away from Gabriel tomorrow night, there will be hell to pay.”

Sam followed his gaze to find Dean grinding his teeth. “Do you think Gabriel invited us so he can ruin me?”

“I think he likes you just fine. He was impressed with your designs. He clearly likes this piece. I think it’s the guy in it that he wants to ruin. But more than that, I think he wants to prove he’s still the legend he’s always been at these gatherings, that he can still hold court with guys like you two there as competition for attention. You ever hear Billy Joel singing about being a big shot?”

“Yeah?”

“I think he was singing about my boss.”

Sam sighed. “Great. That’s...great. What about you?”

Castiel turned with a startle. “What? I’m the assistant.”

He found a genuinely kind smile on the kid’s face. That was rare in this business. “Yeah. I mean, what about you? You like him. My brother.”

“Oh. That doesn’t matter.”

The designer let his eyebrows lift. “It doesn’t? Why not?”

Castiel went back to watching the last of the photo shoot. “I’m no Gabriel,” he sighed. “Come on. They’re finishing up.”

Sam followed behind him as they approached the two other men, who smirked coldly at one another.


	3. Simplicity

Dean felt better in his own clothes. Sam’s suit was great, no doubt, and it was fun to dress like Kevin Costner in Untouchables. Maybe he could convince Sam to do some kind of Western theme next time. But until then, he was happiest in his jeans and henley, with work boots. It even felt good to put his rings and black necklace on, and return his dark cord to his wrist. 

He sighed at the reflection in the window. Less Costner and more mechanic with six bucks to his name. He was no model, that was for sure. But he was comfortable in his own skin, and in his own clothes. 

So it was a lot easier to smile at the hot guy waiting for him inside the bar than it had been when he was dolled up and pretending to be something he really wasn’t in a studio. After all, a place like this was Dean’s turf. It didn’t matter that he had never stepped into this particular place before. Any place that had good music, handsome men, a pool table and a dartboard...that was Dean’s turf. 

“Cas!” he called in greeting. 

The man turned and smiled back. “Hello, Dean.”

Somehow, the way he said his name in that deep voice just made Dean shiver inside. “This isn’t your usual kind of place,” he guessed. 

Castiel looked around them with a wry smile. “Maybe not. But I think you would be surprised how much more comfortable I am here than in some of the glitzy places I do frequent. I didn’t always work for Gabriel Brillare, you know.”

Dean gestured toward a two-top near the bar where they could sit. “Yeah? Let’s start there. Why do you work for that douche?”

His smile took on a bit of dry humor. “Gabriel wasn’t always Gabriel either. And he isn’t as bad as he seems.”

“Really? Because he seems like a douche.”

“That’s sort of his work persona. He’s a little more complicated than you might think. For example, he is surprisingly generous with his time and wealth. He just donated over a million dollars to get decent photography equipment into public school programs around the state. He supports the photojournalism program at his alma mater, and goes back to give talks whenever they ask him to. He never even charges them.”

Dean nodded slowly. “So he’s like that Simon guy on those singing shows.”

Castiel burst into laughter. “More like the Gordon guy on the cooking shows. Horrible, brutal to adults, but give him a kid and he’s a complete angel. Most of the industry doesn’t get to see him work with younger people. I do. I’m aware of what an ass he can be. But I’ll always be at his side.”

“Well, he didn’t destroy my brother, so that’s all I care about.”

Castiel shrugged. “Gabe only gets off on messing with conceited punks. Your brother is talented and smart, and Gabe liked him. He’s going to put out a very generous spread for the magazine. When Gabe’s done flexing his muscle, Sam will never have to worry about getting work. So long as he doesn’t get cocky.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t pretend to understand anything about this business. But if the guy is going to help out Sam, he can do whatever he wants to me. I can spend a day rolling with his punches so long as it’s getting Sam what he wants.”

“You’re very loyal.”

He met Castiel’s eyes again, and again he was fascinated by them. “Yeah. So are you. So maybe we have something in common.”

The man lifted an eyebrow, and licked at his lips. “I think we’ve got more in common than that.”

The waitress arrived before Castiel could elaborate, but Dean had been stunned into silence by the intelligent, sexy confidence in that smirk. Something inside him whispered excitedly that he had never known anyone quite like this before. This was a man of contradictions. He was adorably awkward at the same time as entirely self-assured. He was dedicated to his job and his boss, while apparently completely aware of the hypocrisy and shallow pettiness in the business. That smirk meant that he was confident in his role here, but the gaze also indicated that he was intrigued by Dean somehow too. That combination of traits was doing something interesting to Dean’s insides. 

They ordered drinks and food, and talked about nothing for a while, simply feeling one another out. This was the part Dean excelled at, and he was gratified to see Castiel beginning to lean in to listen, ignoring everything around them. Dean talked about his job, his car, his football team. Castiel countered with his love of movies. They laughed about guilty pleasures, and it seemed Dean shared Gabriel’s taste for medical dramas, and Castiel had developed a strange fascination with horrible Japanese game shows, thanks to Gabriel, but they both hated procedural cop shows. By the time their food arrived, they were talking like old friends. 

Dean smiled at Castiel’s plate, which resembled his own. He pointed with his beer bottle. “You struck me as a little fancier than a cheeseburger and fries.”

Castiel blinked, then began to laugh. “You were expecting a kale salad and tea? Or the tomato crostini and gin? I didn’t see roasted hake with marinated veggies, or the almond-crusted duck with amaretto jus on the menu. And there wasn’t anything in shiitake butter or truffle oil. I’ll make do with a good burger.” He winked at Dean as he bit into the sandwich. 

He snickered, even as he felt a warm flush rising in his face. “Yeah. Well, I don’t know what half of that crap is, and I still think you made the right choice.”

His companion washed his bite down with his beer. “Cheeseburgers will always be my first choice. They make me...very happy.”

Suddenly, Dean wanted to know everything that made this man happy. He wanted to be one of those things that made him grin lopsidedly like that. 

“Besides, my niece tells me that ketchup is a vegetable, and I’m inclined to believe her. Eating trendy foods all week at various restaurants around New York and Los Angeles, and airline meals in between, just makes me want fries even more. If I have to have another plate of avocado toast or roasted Brussels sprouts, I may have to quit and become a mechanic. Cheeseburgers are what keep me going.”

Dean’s laugh boomed out over the crowd. He liked this guy. The dry humor was fantastic. “The paycheck might be smaller, but the life is simpler.”

Castiel’s gaze lifted to watch Dean. “There’s something to be said for simplicity. I’m glad you agreed to dinner, Dean. I enjoy your company.”

“I was surprised...I guess I didn’t think you were serious when you said...I mean, let’s be honest. Doing what you do? Why would I even ping your radar, right?” He couldn’t believe he was saying this. Who was this insecure idiot who was controlling his brain right now? He was Dean Winchester! This was what he did! Sure, the guy was hot, and weirdly nice and down to earth, and clearly a hell of a lot smarter and classier than Dean could ever hope to be, and...and…

Castiel was still watching him. 

“Why the hell would you ask me to dinner?”

The man’s dark brow peaked curiously, in that way that made Dean’s stomach go strange. “You’re kidding, right?”

He swallowed, and wished the waitress would hurry with his refill. “Or...or do you...Is that just something you do with all the-the guys who…” 

An amused smile spread onto Castiel’s handsome face. “You’re not kidding,” he decided. He reached across the table to brush his fingertips on Dean’s. “Dean, I don’t try to hook up with every male model who walks into our studio. In fact, I’ve sworn off models in general for the past two years after a series of unfortunate events. Then I met you.”

Dean’s tension was slipping away. “Yeah? Well, I’m not exactly a real model.”

“The integrity of my vows are depending on that. Hooking up with a model always leaves me wondering why I’m allowed to make my own decisions when I’m clearly not in any position to do so.”

He laughed. “That bad?”

Castiel sat back, and rolled his eyes. “High maintenance drama queen doesn’t even begin to describe my last mistake. Raphael,” he sighed with bitterness. “Gorgeous. He knocked me flat on my ass. One of those guys that just radiate power. Incredible voice.”

Dean smirked at him. “If a guy with your voice was floored by his, it must be a great voice.”

His companion looked up with surprised pleasure. Then he smiled down at his own hands. “Well, Raphael was something otherworldly. There’s nothing about me that compares to anything about him. Don’t believe me, just ask him.”

He snorted. 

“He was impossible to please. The daily stress of bringing the right almond milk or sending exactly the right flower, or matching my jacket to his when in public...He wanted me to be vegan, then switch to a protein diet with him. He spent money-mine and his-like the world was coming to an end. Gabe loathed him. He was exhausting when I tried to work, demanding to know which male models were near me at all times. His favorite moments of our relationship were when we fought. Nothing made him happier than drama.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t have the energy for that kind of pettiness. I don’t care how pretty a guy is. If he’s gotta go looking for problems, he’s never had it hard enough to appreciate the good times. What’s his last name?”

Castiel snickered. “He doesn’t use one.”

“Uh huh. That should’ve been your first clue.”

Now Castiel was watching him with a new intensity. It made Dean’s face warm. “And so what am I doing here?” the man wondered aloud. “Sworn off models, yet sitting across from the best looking guy I can remember. In a bar I haven’t been in for probably five years…”

He looked around them curiously. He liked this place. It wasn’t like a lot of gay bars he had been in, with obnoxious music and flamboyant waiters. It was a lot more like the places he and Sam used to go to play pool and darts. Dean didn’t feel like everyone in the room was trying too hard here. He didn’t feel obligated to be something more than what he was. “I like this place,” he confirmed aloud. 

His companion smiled happily. “I do too. After working all week in an industry which is all about hiding behind beauty and sex, I like to remember there are places out there where people are just living their lives honestly. I don’t mind going to clubs. But it’ll always feel like part of the job for me. A place like this...It’s just nice to remember what real feels like.”

Dean turned his gaze back to Castiel. “Why did you ask me to dinner?” he pressed with a smile. 

Castiel laughed quietly. “I was hoping to hook up with the hot model.”

He nodded, and let his grin take over. “Yeah? So invite me back to your place. I’m sharing a hotel room with my designer.”

“Dean? Want to come back to my place after we finish here?”

“I’m done.”

Castiel grabbed for his jacket, and waved to the waitress. “So am I,” he said in a breath. 

Dean laughed. Not a bad reward for having to play dress up for his kid brother for a day.


	4. Loyalty

It was hard to take the great and powerful Gabriel seriously when he wandered the apartment in an undershirt and boxers.

“I can’t believe you slept with yet another model! Do we not remember the mistake of two years back?”

Castiel continued sifting through Gabriel’s paperwork. “Do we not remember the tax audit of four years back?” he countered dryly, gesturing to the mess in front of him.

Gabriel shrugged. “That’s what you’re for. You make sense of my chaos. It’s what you do.”

He tossed a handwritten receipt at his boss. “For the last time, Gabe, I can’t write off gifts for a hooker as a business expense.”

“Porn star.”

“What?”

“She’s a porn star. Not a hooker. And you’re changing the subject. Your heart looked like dog chow after Raphael got his hands on it. You could barely get out of bed!”

“And that’s what you’re for,” Castiel sighed. “To harass me into being a productive member of society when I’ve been so stupid I don’t want to see the light of day.”

“You’re welcome.”

At last, Castiel smiled softly. “He’s different.”

“They’re all different until they turn out exactly the same! Some models have depth, Cas, but most are conniving, backbiting and two-faced, and those are their good qualities. Why can’t you find a normal guy? Sleeping with mannequins is never not going to tear your heart out.”

It must have been the exasperation brought on by the bills and receipts Gabriel had been hiding from him, which he had found in the oven when he had tried to fix breakfast for the man. Maybe it was the boldness of having awoken in the gorgeous arms of Dean Winchester.

Whatever it was, Castiel suddenly lost his mind. “You know, Gabe? For all that you claim to loathe hypocrisy, you are the biggest hypocrite I’ve ever known.”

Gabriel’s whiskey brown eyes flashed in warning.

“You came into this business as a model! You made a lot of money being, in your words, a damn good mannequin!”

“Castiel.”

He threw his hands up. “You’re one of the very few who’ve made it in this world! You modeled before you could even read your contracts! By the time you were twenty, you owned your own agency! Then you went to school for photojournalism, but the money is better here, so here is where you are. You own half the models on both coasts, and yet you’re constantly bitching about-“

Gabriel’s snarl was lethal, but Castiel had many years of experience withstanding it. “I don’t own them.”

“Your agency represents all the off-runway headliners, and you decide whether they work and with whom. I call that owning them.”

“I worked my ass off for everything I have, and that includes them!”

The shout met silence, and Castiel simply lifted his eyebrow.

Gabriel took a breath, then another. “If you want to screw some untrained, arrogant mannequin who’s going to destroy you, be my guest. But know that you’re ending his career if you do. He’ll never work. I won’t allow it.”

A heavy sadness blanketed Castiel. “He’s not a model, Gabe,” he sighed. “He’s a mechanic. You can’t hurt him. And he’s not one of the ones who hurt you along the way.”

Gabriel’s face was twisted into fury. “Never tell me what I can’t do.” It was a hiss.

Castiel wet his lips, and lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m out of line.”

“Damn right, you’re out of line. You’ve got no idea what you’re…” Gabriel gulped in a jagged breath, then pointed an accusing finger at his oldest, truest friend. “I do what I do to protect these arrogant, clueless kids. They have no idea what can happen to them. And an untrained hick like Winchester? He’s a nice kid. He’s going to be eaten alive. Then he’ll take it out on you. Like I do.”

The flinch was nearly audible.

Gabriel took a step back. “Like they all do. There’s no way this doesn’t end bloody for you. It always does. And I won’t watch it again. I have the power to protect you. I didn’t do it with Raphael, or before that with the clusterfuck of guys who came before him. But I’m done with free will. You suck at it. So I’m taking charge, and you’re going to play your role.”

Castiel frowned at him. “Gabriel, what happened to you isn’t-“

“Your mannequin better show up at the Banes place tonight. If he’s too chickenshit, I’ll destroy his designer.”

At last, a cold fear splashed Castiel in the face. “No! Gabriel, that designer is his brother. You said you liked him!”

A shrug of conceit was his response. “I like you. The rest of the world can blow me. Now you figure out how a necklace for a softcore princess is a business expense, while I figure out which of my trousers best show off my amazing ass.”

Castiel stared after him in disbelief. Gabriel was always unpredictable, always volatile, always eccentric. But this time felt different. This time, it felt like his outburst was coming from a place of pain, not mischief.

Dean had been something out of a dream last night. Castiel had never been so intrigued, not even by flawless Raphael. His heart had been entirely swept away in the undercurrent of the man’s energy, his charisma, his sensuality. He had tried to hang on to his humor and cynicism as a lifeline, but one perfectly-timed white grin from Dean had flung him off into the deep end.

He could have worshipped Dean Winchester for days without coming up for air.

Castiel tended to be somewhat dominant in the bedroom. It was simply easier that way. The men he dated were often arrogant but in need of direction, which he was happy to provide. But it was different with Dean. There was little need for a power dynamic, and it was all just fun. Dean seemed to truly enjoy providing and taking pleasure, and he communicated better than any lover Castiel had ever had. There were no games, no manipulation, no deceptions between them, and the inevitable awkwardness of learning one’s way around a new lover was cause for laughter and not frustration. Perhaps Castiel still led the charge, but Dean needed no encouragement, nor guidance. The purity of Dean’s motivation and reactions was something that had been missing in every other sexual encounter of Castiel’s life. He loved it.

And if he wasn’t careful, he would love Dean himself.

Castiel sighed after Gabriel. There was no one who meant more than Gabriel to him, and he knew he was the only family Gabriel had. He had been at the man’s side for nearly a decade now, and he knew there was more to him than the persona he showed to the rest of the world. Castiel had a loyal heart. If Gabriel felt so strongly about Dean...would Castiel give him up? Dean didn’t need Castiel. Gabriel did. And Castiel might want Dean desperately, but he needed to be there for Gabriel.

There had to be another solution. Gabriel was dramatic, but Castiel would find a way out of this ultimatum, and he would keep everyone from being hurt by the time it was all worked out.

Tonight would decide if he could manage his boss, his lover, and the poor designer at the center of it.


	5. God of Wine and Madness

Okay, now he had done everything for Sam. He had thought the Ken Doll Dean thing was it, but this was definitely it.

“Sammy, I just stood there and listened to two women and a man talk about another woman’s pretentious fragrance line for twenty-five minutes. And have you noticed no one around here has a last name?”

Sam shushed him, and went to work straightening his big brother’s collar. “For god's sake, Dean, why do I bother putting you in my best designs when you don’t even know how to wear them?”

Dean closed his mouth and glowered evenly at the designer. He was entirely done with this whole weekend.

“And relax. If we pull this off, if I can convince Max Banes to look at my portfolio, I’ll be able to pay your rent for the foreseeable future.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have a career that didn’t require kissing the asses of the most fake, plastic people on the planet? Weren’t you going to be an architect once upon a time? I could swear you were going to be an architect.”

Sam met his glare with his own defiant green eyes. “Dean? I love what I do. I am really good at what I do. And you’ve supported me all this time. This is the finish line for you. Just get through tonight, and I will never ask you for anything again. If I make it tonight, I won’t need to. And if I don’t make it tonight, there’s no point. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, from paying my car payment to not telling Dad you’re paying my car payment. But tonight is what we’ve worked so hard for. I’m getting my chance, a chance most designers can’t even dream about, certainly not a white trash Kansan boy with no connections in the industry, who has to say he’s from Lawrence because it’s at least on the map, and no one’s heard of the town he’s actually from.”

Dean sighed. “You were never trash, Sam. You were always something special.”

“Let me prove that’s true tonight. If I have to kiss a few asses to get where I need to be, I can do that. But I can’t do it without my brother. I don’t want to do it without my brother. So go be your obnoxiously charming self and make sure everyone knows you do have a last name, and it’s Winchester!”

He winked, and watched Sam smile shakily and turn back into the crowd with a smooth confidence Dean knew was as fake as the noses all around them.

Well, if Sam could fake it, so could he.

A strong hand settled on his lower back a moment later while he was laughing with a tall, skinny woman whose hair probably weighed more than the rest of her did. Relief filled him all over.

“Hello, darling,” Castiel said to the woman in a smooth voice.

She smirked at him as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Cas, you didn’t tell me there was a new boy in town,” she pouted prettily.

Castiel gave her an even smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe I’m afraid of competition. I’m hardly the catch you are. Forgive me if I play dirty, to compensate for all the charms you’ve got that I don’t.”

The woman laughed with delight. “That’s all right, Cas. Everyone knows you can turn any guy you want. Just leave me a few still intact when you’re done with them.” With that, she patted Dean’s cheek, and slipped into the crowd.

Dean turned slowly toward Castiel, who was still smiling, but whose blue eyes were also flashing with irritation. “What the hell?”

“It isn’t my fault she was sleeping with a gay producer. Nor is it my fault that he could no longer perform with her after his evening with me.”

Dean cackled. “Funny how a night out of the closet can mess up every other night back in it.”

Castiel hummed in agreement. “I didn’t turn him, as she says.”

“You broke him.”

The ghost of a true smile flitted onto Castiel’s handsome face. “I freed him.” Then he turned back to Dean. “Were you ever closeted?”

He shrugged. “Only in high school while I was still figuring stuff out. Once I was sure, I told Dad, and when that didn’t kill me, I figured I could handle anything else the world could throw at me. Sam always knew.”

“Sam’s a good man, isn’t he?”

“Best,” Dean confirmed.

His lover nodded.

Dean watched him. Intelligent blue eyes were scanning the room ceaselessly. “You looking for someone?”

“It’s part of my job to take note of everyone at one of these gatherings. Gabriel expects me to know who is wearing who, and who is shagging whom before the night is over.”

“Who is wearing...what?”

Castiel laughed and kissed Dean’s cheek very quickly. “Who is wearing what designer’s work. I love that you’re from an entirely different planet than all these people. It’s refreshing.”

“So you’re looking at everybody’s clothes.”

“And jewelry. Especially the shoes and bags.”

Dean shrugged. “All the shoes are the same.”

Castiel snickered, but shook his head. “No. Those? Bela Talbot is wearing Stuart Weitzman. She’s always classy. Always a conniving bitch, but definitely a natural when it comes to style. Cindy Cassity is trying to mix Walter Steiger with Prada, and failing. I suppose her new holiday album for dogs will keep her in mismatched bags and shoes for another year. And for some reason, Olivia LaCroix thinks she can get away with a knockoff Armani among a crowd that includes a man who once slept with him, and at least two who attended his eightieth birthday celebration a few years ago. Balthazar’s affair with him-that was long after Sergio, of course. And then there is her half-sister Beverly over there trying to get under your brother’s skirt, while wearing Versace that everyone knows she can’t afford, and some hideous Brian Atwoods that must have been a hand-down from Heddy, who has been claiming to be thirty-nine since 2003, and can’t hide her aging behind all that Kevyn Aucoin highlighter.” He sighed. “Poor Kevyn. He was a good artist. And Heddy LaCroix can’t take that from him.”

Dean was staring at him in disbelief. He took a deep breath. “Cas? We slept together last night, but that’s still the gayest thing I can possibly imagine you saying.”

The man snorted. “I know a Christian Louboutin heel and a Christian Dior gown a mile off, and I can tell you who Christian Campbell has been sleeping with. Spoiler alert...Not his wife. Still think I’m a catch?”

“Man, I don’t get it. You don’t care about these things, do you?”

There came a slight tilt to Castiel’s head, and a thoughtful expression followed. “I care about art,” he said finally. “And this form of art is fascinating. It’s functional art, and these people have dedicated themselves to it. Do I care about which bag they’re carrying? No. But the way these designers create art from fabric and sex and power is incredible. Each design speaks for the designer. Each model wears that expression, adding to its potency or diminishing it. Each photographer seeks to capture it at its most defining moment. The life of a single design, from its conception to its debut, is a labor of love. And there are plenty of imposters among us tonight, but we are also standing with some of the most talented artists of our time. Their canvas being a pair of heels or a gown doesn’t make it less fascinating than if it were hanging in the Louvre. For that matter, Louis Vuitton recently had a show in the courtyard of the Louvre.”

A warmth was spreading through Dean’s heart. He wasn’t sure why. He didn’t care much about art himself. But the way Castiel talked made him see it a little differently. Words slipped from his mouth without thought attached to them. “Like a classic car,” he breathed.

Castiel turned to give him a surprised smile. “Yes! Exactly. I may not care about owning a gorgeous car, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate one when I encounter it. And unlike a pair from Louboutin, I can take a beautiful car for a test drive. Art in its various forms...It fascinates me.”

Dean was about to respond, but a commotion nearby grabbed his attention. The source of the disturbance made his mouth drop.

He heard Castiel sigh beside him over the music.

Gabriel Brillare and two breathtaking women were being carried into the room on a platform by four strong, gorgeous, shirtless men. Gabriel looked like an avatar of Dionysus, drinking wine while the women fed him grapes. He caught sight of his assistant and waved the ladies away. “Castiel!” he bellowed.

Dean watched Castiel smirk. “What can I do for you, Mr. Brillare?”

“Max has made me the entertainment director of the evening.”

“We won’t hold his poor judgment against him,” Castiel called back.

“I say we need more wine!”

Castiel nodded. “I’ll be sure the cellar is stocked and the stewards are alert at their posts. Anything else?”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat as the deity’s gaze landed squarely on him.

“Yes,” Gabriel said with a wicked lick of his lips that made Dean wonder if he intended to eat him. “Bring me that one.”

His lover took a deep breath. “Gabe-“

“Unless he’s afraid. That would be understandable, right, ladies?”

The women around him were laughing, though Dean couldn’t see why. Then he heard jeers from the crowd, and whispered laughs as everyone tried to figure out Gabriel’s game.

Dean clenched his jaw. “Afraid? Of what? Of you?” He shook his head.

The laughter splashed all over the room. Gabriel grinned. “You should be,” he said in a voice that made something in Dean want to step back.

His pride wouldn’t allow it. He glanced around the crowd to find his brother descending a set of stairs with two beautiful people, a man and a woman, each dressed in stunning white suits. Max and Alicia Banes. It had to be. Sam was getting his time with the two hosts. And this spectacle of Gabriel’s was going to steal their attention away, and Sam’s chance would be ruined.

Then there was Castiel, who looked a little like he wanted to throw up, a few paces away.

Dean turned his gaze back to Gabriel and smiled dangerously. “Look, man. I’m just here for the open bar. Being afraid and being bored are two different things. I ain’t one, but I’m getting close to the other.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “That so? Maybe you’re a little out of your league, golden boy.”

What was this guy’s problem? He shrugged. “This how you make friends?”

“I don’t need friends. I'm not really a joiner.”

Dean couldn’t follow this posturing. He thought back to everything he knew about this man, everything Castiel and Sam had said, and the little things Gabriel himself had let slip. Then he looked up. “This is your temple, Dionysus. I’ll drink to your continued blessings.” He grabbed a glass of wine from the hand of a man nearby, and tossed it back. Then he smiled up at the man. “If you decide to mingle among the mortals, it would be my pleasure to drink with you.”

The crowd seemed to hold its collective breath, waiting judgment from the god, waiting to know if he would bless or smite the bold man who dared speak to him.

Sam and Castiel were staring along with all the rest.

Finally, Gabriel began to smile. In a benevolent gesture, he reached down to offer his hand to the younger man. “You amuse me,” he decided. “Join me, brave and stupid man. We will drink and make merry, and all the world will sing songs of our conquests and beauty!”

Castiel to his left, and Sam on the other end of the room, each let out their breaths in relief.

Dean’s head was spinning. He took the offered hand, and tried to step up onto the platform as commanded by the eccentric.

The events that followed could only have been designed by a bored Trickster god.

Dean heard Castiel’s shout over the rest of the noise around the room, but didn’t have time to react before it became obvious what the cry of warning had been about. Dean’s foot caught in some elaborate, decorative, golden rope which ran along the platform, as the whole thing shifted with his weight. The men holding the chariot fell like dominos around them. Gabriel was thrown backward, and Dean lurched forward, breaking through the wood, and landing with a thud on top of the photographer. Wine splashed everywhere, and just when Dean thought the worst was over, there seemed to be a small explosion in the wreckage. Some kind of dust sprayed all over him, sticking immediately to every surface, every inch of his skin and the clothes Sam had put him in.

Gabriel’s cackle was the first sound that Dean heard as he was finally able to make sense of the noise around him. He felt two sets of strong arms lifting him out of the ruins of a god’s chariot. He glanced at his angels, stunned.

Sam was huffing in a strange way, as if he couldn’t decide if he were going to be livid or if he were going to laugh. The other man was Max Banes.

He knew he should say something, apologize...something. But when he looked up at the man, he was at a loss.

But Max was smirking. “You’re no Michael,” he laughed. “We like that about you.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know what...what happened...I’m sorry…”

Sam snorted. “Dude. You’re…”

Gabriel was pushing his way through the crowd, with Castiel at his side. “That was awesome!”

Castiel seemed entirely exasperated. “You’re both entirely covered in wine and glitter! You look like-“

“We look like we were attacked by PCP-crazed strippers!” Gabriel cackled. He leaned on Dean’s arm to brace himself as he laughed so hard he shook.

Castiel threw his hands into the air. “You realize this is probably already all over instagram!”

Dean began to chuckle softly. He stared at Gabriel, who was nearly unrecognizable, except for the grin. “We look like we got wailed on by Paris Hilton!”

This only made Gabriel laugh harder. “Max! I declare glitter to be the season’s hot accessory! I want everyone wearing it from head to foot.”

Max nodded. “Yeah. We’ll work on that. In the meantime, Dionysus, help yourself to the showers.”

Gabriel held out his hand to one of the women from his entourage. “Come help me with my hard-to-reach bits?”

The woman giggled breathlessly, and hurried to follow.

Then the man stopped, and turned to Castiel, and watched him as he addressed their host. “And, Max? Glitter or no glitter, this Sam kid is good. You need to bring him into the fold. I’m going to run a gorgeous splash on his work, and if you want in, you better get on board fast.”

Max licked his lips. It was suddenly clear that even the powerful host was hungry for Gabriel’s approval. He glanced at his sister, who smiled. “We’re on board. Winchester is good. We’ll see that he gets his chance to shine.”

Sam’s smile was like sunshine in a room too dark and smoky. It was the most real thing in the whole place.

“I recommend glitter,” Gabriel called over his shoulder.

Dean watched him go, then turned to Castiel. “I want to go home.”

His lover burst into laughter at last.


	6. Brothers, Both Real and Imagined

Sam was always a happy, weepy drunk. It was one of the constants in Dean’s life. “Because I’m serious, Dean!” the overgrown kid was wailing now. “Do you-you get it, I’m serious.”

“I hear you.”

“But do you?” Sam was gripping at his sleeve with desperation. “I need you to see it. To get it. To get me.”

Dean smirked at him wearily. “Sammy, there will never be a day when I get you. But I hear you.”

“Because I’m serious,” he began again. “Dead serious. You’re my freaking hero, man. I’m serious about that.”

He nodded. “Okay, kiddo. I didn’t actually do anything. I wore the hell out of your stupid suits. That’s it.”

“No!” Sam continued, as Dean wrestled him into the bed. “No, it’s more than that, okay? Let’s be honest, okay, Michael is better than you. He’s better looking and…” Sam began to giggle. “And he’s more graceful. And better looking.”

“We covered that,” Dean sighed.

“But you, you have always been there for me.” Sam tried to take hold of Dean’s face. “You’re my freaking hero, and I’m serious. About that.”

“Sammy…”

“Go away. I’m trying to sleep.”

Dean stared down at the enormous child he had helped raise-was still raising-and smiled. It had been a while since he had seen Sam on hard liquor. It was going to be a very rough morning.

But in the meantime…

***

Castiel felt his heart lurch, as if it were trying to throw him toward this handsome man, as soon as Dean slipped out of the guest room.

His new lover smiled at him. “Hey, Cas. Thanks again for letting us bunk here. There’s no way I could have gotten that crap off me with the water pressure at the hotel. And Sam is going to spend a few hours with his head in your toilet tomorrow. We probably would have missed checkout.”

He let his gaze paint over Dean lazily. “You’re welcome. And for the record, you still have glitter all over you.”

He enjoyed the cute scowl. “I know. But it’s better. I’ll be picking it out of my ear for days. I took that hit directly on the side of my face. The rest was just collateral damage. Why the hell did he have all that glitter anyway?”

Castiel couldn’t help laughing. “Because how else was he supposed to bestow blessings on the mortals?”

“He said that?”

“I know him. Just be glad it was glitter and not cocaine or something. Gabe likes to show off how much money he has.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “What the hell kind of world is my brother getting himself into?”

“I’ll watch over him.”

The man met his gaze again. “Yeah? What’s in it for you?” he teased, taking another step toward him.

Even as his heart was pounding, Castiel shrugged. “It’s part of the job. Gabriel adopted him. He’s now my responsibility.”

“Adopted him!”

“Look. If Gabriel Brillare puts his name on someone, they better succeed. And it’s my responsibility to make sure they do. It’s protecting his brand. Gabriel does not make mistakes. If he says Sam is hot, I’m responsible for making sure he gets all the help he needs to succeed.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Gabriel devours him whole. But it won’t come to that. Your brother is very talented, and he’s a hard worker. Everything else, I’ll take care of. I’ll watch over your brother. And you know you will too.”

The man smiled softly. “Damn right. Glad we both know it. He don’t stop being my kid brother just because he’s one of the big shots.”

Castiel reached out to claw gently through Dean’s hair, and watched the remaining bits of metallic sparkle shimmer in the light. He imagined for a moment that it was sand, that he and Dean were far from all the cattiness and high-pressure, lying together on a beach somewhere.

He wondered if it would be pushing his luck to ask Gabriel for a weekend at the beach house.

While Dean had gotten Sam to the condo with Castiel’s keys, he had checked once more on his boss. He had expected to find him mid-orgy, or regaling a crowd with his stories and charm. Instead, he found him sitting alone at Max’s poker table downstairs, far from the din of the party. He watched Gabriel flip through a deck of cards idly, with a lollipop hanging from his mouth, and the assistant smiled with a surge of fondness. Gabriel nearly always had a deck of cards and a piece of candy, and Castiel was certain those two things made him nearly as happy as all the women who followed him around.

“You’re lurking, Cas.”

“I apologize. I just wanted to be sure you’re all right. I can leave you alone, unless I can do something for you.”

“Your mannequin leave?”

He sighed patiently. “He did. And he and his brother will be staying at my place for the remainder of the weekend.”

Gabriel stopped dealing his set for a moment, then continued with a shrug. “That’s your business.”

Amusement lifted Castiel’s eyebrows. “Hours ago, you were under the impression it was yours.”

His boss snorted.

Castiel ventured a few steps closer. “Gabriel? Is this about Michael? About how Sam Winchester’s model was supposed to be Michael?”

He spoke around his candy. “Mike bailed the minute he realized I was the editor doing the spread on Winchester, and that I’d be the photographer too. How could it be about him? He’s not even here.”

Blue eyes lowered, and they stared at his hands. “Gabriel, Dean is no Michael.”

“Nobody’s Michael,” he snarled. He still refused to face his assistant. “Nobody will ever be Michael. Not even Michael.”

Castiel waited.

At last, Gabriel turned and shook his head. His eyes were red, and there were dark shadows beneath them borne of exhaustion. For the first time, Castiel thought he looked old. “I did everything I could do for Michael. You know that.”

“I know.”

“And he blames me because he’s been burned and trapped by this world. I don’t think I’d even recognize him anymore if I hadn’t kept up with his career from a distance. He’s not my brother anymore. After what Lucien Mark did to him, the drugs, the manipulation, and he blames me because I failed to protect him. Addiction to the drugs was one thing, but addiction to the drama and lies and deceit, the gossip and disease. He called me his brother once upon a time. And now?”

Castiel licked his lips. “And now he’s beyond your reach, Gabe. Even you have limitations. Lucien Mark was a brutal man, and he snaked into Michael’s heart and head. And he broke your heart by breaking your brother’s heart. But, Gabe, Dean might remind you of him, but he’s a completely different person. You saw him tonight. Dean is his own man. He’s nothing like-“

Gabriel turned again to finish dealing his set. “You say that. But he’s a good kid the industry is going to crush, and he’s going to take it out on you.”

“I told you, Gabriel. He’s not really a model. He’s a mechanic. He’s not planning on continuing in the industry. No Lucien Mark is going to find him and take advantage of him. And he’s not going to take anything out on me.”

The cards slapped onto the table. “Raphael gutted you.”

“And that isn’t your fault. Lucien isn’t your fault. Michael isn’t your fault. You aren’t really a god, Mr. Brillare. Michael is wrong to blame you, just because you adopted him. The good you did for him doesn’t make you his brother, and it certainly doesn’t make you his keeper.”

“He called me his brother.”

“And you’ve seen a set of real brothers the past few days, and you know Michael was never really your brother. Gabriel, he took advantage of your kindness, and he fed your loneliness, and made you feel responsible for what happened to him.”

Whiskey eyes closed briefly. “He wanted me to destroy Lucien Mark. He wanted me to…”

Castiel frowned at him, and sat beside him cautiously. This was the longest conversation they had ever had without Gabriel’s dissolving into defensive humor. “What?”

Gabriel’s eyes opened into a stare now, and Castiel knew he was seeing something long gone. “Last time he spoke to me, he demanded that I use what contacts and money I have to...He wanted me to put a hit out on Lucien.”

Shock rippled through Castiel, chilling him without mercy. “A hit!”

“A contract. Wanted me to have him snuffed out. And when I told him he had finally asked too much, he told me a real brother would do anything to protect him. And I told him I would protect him with everything I had, but I wouldn’t kill a man for him. I’d wreck Lucien’s reputation, if I could, get him out of the spotlight. I’d kill his career, but I wouldn’t kill him. So Michael never spoke to me again.”

Now it was quiet rage which warmed the cold inside Castiel. “He had no right to ask you to do that. You’re a good man, Gabe.”

“I can’t protect a guy I thought of as my brother for years. And when he got hurt, I couldn’t avenge him. I’m a coward, Cas. And you know as well as Michael did that I’m not a good man. You don’t go to a good man to ask him to put a contract out on an ex-lover. I’m not a good man. And I’m shit as a brother.”

In a fit of compassion, Castiel reached across the table to touch his oldest friend’s hand gently.

Gabriel stilled immediately.

“You’re a lot of things, Gabriel. You’re an eccentric, and you’re a genius. You’re powerful, and you’re afraid. You’re a good boss, and a demanding, scheming asshole.”

He snickered then, and ventured to gaze up at Castiel’s gaze.

“You’re human, Gabriel. You’re surrounded by people who think you’re a god, and you’ve worked every day of your life to build an empire in this business. But I know the real you behind all that. I know you, Gabriel. I’ve seen the walled up heart, and I know your strength, and I know how much it took to tell Michael no when you knew it would mean he wouldn’t speak to you again.”

“It’s not a hardship to not kill a man.” It was said in a hoarse voice.

“But it was a hardship to choose not to act on behalf of a man you called brother. Especially when it was Lucien who hurt him.”

There was a tiny tremble in Gabriel’s hands now, a warm fear coming from him.

Castiel held on tighter, and waited to know if his guess had been correct.

Gabriel’s voice was small, raspy. “He was the one who hurt me. His lawyer, Tobit Asmodeus, he covered it all up, kept it all quiet. My agent, Crowley, he...he agreed to terms without even bothering to speak to me, took the money and signed my last bit of grace away. Lucien...The things he did to me...you don’t forgive. And when Michael went to him willingly, I begged him to let him alone. I told him, the only person who knew outside of me, Lucien, Asmodeus and Fergus fucking Crowley, I told Michael the story. And he still didn’t listen. Not until he wanted me to exact revenge for his hurt pride.”

Castiel could hear the party upstairs, could feel the beat of music and the laughter, but it was all a bit like listening to sounds outside of a dream.

“He, um...Lucien, he died a year back, you know. No thanks to me. Overdose. And his lawyer, that freaking Kentucky-fried asshole Asmodeus, he scooped up a fortune. And Michael never set foot in any room I might be in again.”

“I’m so sorry, Gabriel.”

A tiny light returned to Gabriel’s eyes, even though his face was still somewhat gray. “It’s cool. I never needed anybody. Mikey’s doing fine on his own, and that’s all I ever wanted for him. And I’m never alone, Cassie. So I’m never lonely.”

At last, he released the man’s hand and sat back. “You’re alone now. With a hundred of your closest friends upstairs.”

“They aren’t friends, Cas. You know it, and so do I. I don’t have friends. I have people who need me and people who want me. That’s not the same thing.” He stood and slipped his deck into his pocket, and turned toward the door.

“What about me, Gabriel?”

The legend, whose hair was still full of glitter, whose eyes were still full of pain, grinned back at him. “You’re my brother, Cas, and I love you. But if you ever tell anybody I’m not a god, I’ll kick your ass ten ways to Tuesday.” One whiskey eye winked with mischief, and the man disappeared back up the stairs to grace the rabble with his presence.

Castiel sighed after him. “I love you too, brother.”


	7. Until You Break With It

Thoughts of fashionistas and jealous gods slipped from Dean’s mind as he crept into Castiel’s bedroom across the hall. He had checked once more on Sam, since it would be a shame for the kid to drink himself to death in the same forty-eight hours as being discovered as a hot new talent. But when he found his brother snoring, in blissful ignorance of the hangover awaiting him, he placed a bottle of water and some aspirin on the side table and sneaked back out without a sound.

The other bedroom was where he wanted to be.

He had no idea where this slumber party would lead. One night of hot sex was one thing. Amicable retreat was still an option. No hurt feelings. No feelings at all. But now?

The object of his anxiety sat perched lightly on his bed, in a tee shirt and jogging pants, looking for all the world as if he were one of the models at that party. His arms were gorgeous muscle, his shoulders broad. Dean knew there was a set of powerful legs beneath those pants, capable of strength like few other lovers from Dean’s memory. His own chest was flushing hot just thinking of the way Castiel was strong enough to hoist them both up-

“Are you all right?”

Dean sucked in his breath, and stumbled forward a step. “God, your voice just freaking slays me.”

Castiel’s head tipped to the side, and he puzzled at Dean with narrowed eyes. “That’s a good thing, I hope,” he said softly, and Dean couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not.

“It’s an amazing thing.” He began to smile. “You weren’t wearing those before.”

This confused Castiel too, then he smiled back. “The reading glasses. I don’t usually need them. But I was checking email while you-I can take them off…”

But Dean hurried forward. “No! No, not yet. You’re just a different kind of hot now. Sort of a smart, sophisticated kind of hot.”

Castiel let an eyebrow peak, and Dean felt his breath go shallow. “I don’t know how sophisticated I am, though I fake it well. But I’m smart.”

“And hot.”

He shrugged. “Time to get your own eyes checked. Or maybe you’re entirely unaware what things look like from my point of view.” He stood and closed the last of the gap between them. His voice became a whisper into Dean’s warm neck. “Because you’re simply gorgeous. And I haven’t stopped wanting you back in my bed since you left it.”

Dean let his eyes slip closed. He was getting lightheaded. Probably because his blood was suddenly collecting far from his brain. First times were awesome, but second times? Now that Dean knew what Castiel could do, what he liked, what made his eyes go dark…

“Are you staying with me tonight, Dean? Or am I taking the couch?”

He blinked foggily. “What? No! I mean, yes!”

Amusement crossed Castiel’s face. He lifted a hand to brush the pad of his thumb over Dean’s lower lip, watched him open his mouth without direction. He seemed pleased. “Which is it? I want to be sure.”

“Cas!” And now he was whining. Dean freaking Winchester, whining. “Come on!”

Mischief played in those blue eyes. “Tell me what you want, Dean. Tell me...or you can’t have it.”

His heart was pounding in his throat, and he couldn’t help licking his lips, aching for the return of Castiel’s hand. “I want you,” he relented with a lusty sigh.

“Hm,” Castiel hummed. “Not very specific. You want me...to leave?”

The voice and the confidence behind it were doing incredible things to Dean. He reached for Castiel’s hand. “No! No, I...Come on, Cas.” He smirked shakily, trying to fake some of that same confidence. “You said you wanted me in your bed. I was good to you last night, wasn’t I? Let me-“

With the grace of a dancer, Castiel grabbed Dean and whipped him around to slam him facedown into the bedsheets.

Dean let out his breath in a huff, then felt the weight of Castiel climbing over him. He whimpered softly, felt his hardness pressing mercilessly into the mattress, felt Castiel’s hardness from behind. Heat washed over him everywhere.

“Tell me,” Castiel was hissing into his ear, hot breath on Dean’s neck. “Tell me what you want, so I can give it to you until you break with it.”

His eyes slammed closed. His words weren’t coming as easily as they always had before. Castiel was throwing him off his game. What did he want? He wanted Castiel! He wanted him… “-in me, on me, all over me!” he cried out as Castiel relieved his own pressure with a rut, but allowed no such relief for Dean.

“Tell me.”

“Cas! I want you to fuck me. I want you in my mouth, then in my ass; then I want to be in you, riding you-oh!”

His lover tossed him effortlessly onto his back, and knelt over him as he removed their clothing piece by hurried piece. He was murmuring phrases like “So beautiful,” and “Tell me,” and “Don’t deserve you…”

At his first opportunity, once a condom had been deftly applied, Dean let Castiel fall thick and heavy onto his tongue, something he had not gotten to enjoy the night before. At this angle, he couldn’t truly go down, but he executed a greedy, heavenly tongue bath, till Castiel was forced to throw his hand against the headboard to keep from falling directly onto Dean. At last, he gave a sort of growl, and went back to manhandling his lover, who moved eagerly wherever Castiel led. Dean had often taken the lead in his escapades, but Castiel was such a naturally dominant lover, and so appreciative of Dean’s happy compliance, that Dean didn’t mind at all. Castiel communicated better in bed than anyone Dean had ever been with, and always in that heart-stopping, sexy voice. Dean was all too content to do as he was bid. So far, Castiel hadn’t steered them wrong.

Nor was the man unnecessarily rough. Dean liked that too. It seemed they enjoyed the same sort of gentle, playful dominance. Castiel could control their positions, could make Dean gasp and moan out his desires, but his effectuation was kind and loving. Even as he teased, even as he used his strength to be firm, he imparted his power tenderly.

Dean ached with how much he needed this. The sex burned him down, and the lovemaking remade him. Somehow, no matter how many times he had heard it before tonight, this was the first time he believed it, when Castiel chanted in veneration of his beauty. He let the praise wash over him, felt Castiel push waves of it into him, until he was filled with it, and it eased from him in tears.

Was this Dean Winchester crying in bed? He had never been that kind, never one to show any emotion but pleasure. But this was pleasure too, stinging, overwhelming pleasure, and he let himself feel it all.

He was safe in these arms. This angel had promised to look after the most important person in his life. He could trust him to watch over Dean too.

***

Dean had wept. It was nearly silent, and only for a moment, but he had.

Castiel was surrounded by beauty in all its forms, day in and day out. Art was his life. But this. The way Dean Winchester let go? This was the most beautiful moment of Castiel’s existence.

Dean was still as he lay in Castiel’s arms now. His back was against Castiel’s chest, and Castiel’s heart simply throbbed with how perfect it was, how well they fit together, how right it felt to protect this man from the world, as though he could blanket him in wings like a guardian angel. Dean was strong and smart. He didn’t need protecting. Castiel wanted to do it anyway.

“You awake?” a whispered breath asked.

He smiled, and responded into the back of his lover’s neck. “I may never sleep again.”

“I’m afraid to.”

The confession was nearly inaudible. But Castiel had heard. “Why?”

Dean hesitated. He took hold of Castiel’s hand and held it to his own chest before speaking again. “Because when I wake up, I’ll have to acknowledge that I don’t belong here.”

Suddenly, the perfect fit seemed uncomfortable. The warmth between them went numb as Castiel froze. He licked his lips, and tried to keep his breath calm. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t. This world, this is where you and Sam belong. I’ve never pretended to be something I’m not, Cas. Just like I was never truly closeted. I am who I am. And that ain’t this.”

 _Raphael gutted you_. Gabriel’s warning pounded through his mind in time with his heart. _Your mannequin leave? Do we not remember the mistake of two years back? You could barely get out of bed._

“When I wake up, it’ll be time for me to go back to what I am. Except Sam won’t need me like before. And what I am is Sam’s big brother. I call him a kid, but he’s a grown man. I helped him jumpstart his career, and essentially worked my way out of a job. Things go well here, he’ll never need me again.”

 _There’s no way this doesn’t end bloody for you. It always does._ Castiel found his breath coming too shallowly, as though the air were thinning.

Dean eased his grip on Castiel’s hand, and it felt like he was dropping him from a ledge. “I ain’t much, but I’ve never pretended to be anything else. Until now. Since I came to this city, it’s been nothing but pretending. I don’t like it. I’m not good at it. But going back to the real me, to where I belong, that’s...that’s going to mean leaving Sam behind. It’s going to mean leaving you behind. So I just don’t want to fall asleep yet.”

He forced his voice through a closing throat. “You’re real right now.”

It must have been the desperation in his tone, which he couldn’t mask. Dean turned in his arms and faced him, pulling away just enough so that they could look into one another’s eyes. Even that felt like too far, like Castiel was losing his grip. “Yeah. But, Cas…”

“No,” he groaned. “Stop. Don’t.”

Concern flashed in Dean’s green gaze. “Cas...You had to have known this wasn’t going to…”

 _They’re all different until they turn out exactly the same_. His chest was too tight. He couldn’t get a good breath. “No, it’s-I’m fine. Don’t-don’t…” _Don’t what?_ his heart screamed at him without mercy. _Don’t make you admit you’re already falling for him? Don’t leave before you’ve completely humiliated yourself? Don’t what?_ “Don’t worry about it. Of course I knew we weren’t going to be…” Castiel pushed a weak laugh out. “Dean, I work in fashion. Every hot new thing is a thing of the past in a matter of days. Including lovers. I knew what I was getting into. And it’s been fun.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah. It’s been…”

“Fun,” Castiel croaked.

“Yeah,” he murmured again. “Fun.”

Castiel flinched away when Dean moved to kiss him. There had been a spontaneous kiss on the cheek at the party, when Castiel just couldn’t stand how cute the clueless man was in a conversation about high fashion. Beyond that, there had been no kissing outside of sex. It seemed like it would cross some boundary, break some spell.

Dean sighed and lowered his gaze to Castiel’s lips with a regretful smile. “Yeah. Okay. You know, I never got that stupid thing in Pretty Woman. No kissing on the lips.”

He was swallowing tears, but he gave a tiny shrug. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand that reference.”

His lover gave a snort. “Friend of mine claimed it ranked up there with Victor/Victoria as a non-negotiable love story any self-respecting gay man should see at least once.”

Castiel shook his head. “I never saw it.”

“Anyway, the chick has a rule...It doesn’t matter. I just...never got it before now. Kissing, it kind of makes it not just about sex anymore, right? Makes it…”

Blue eyes closed in a wince.

“Yeah. I should probably go take the couch.”

Castiel felt layers of his heart rip away as Dean pulled himself up and off the bed. He took a jagged breath. “Dean?”

The man turned to face him. “Cas.”

_Your heart looked like dog chow._

Castiel forced himself to sit, to open his eyes and look at Dean in all his naked beauty. It was a strong, athletic body, large but graceful, hard in every good way, and soft in every good way. He checked everything off Castiel’s list, and added some he never knew to want. And it was probably because he was already falling off the edge, but he adored the tiny bit of squish in the man’s belly, ached to trace his fingers over every freckle, could spend hours watching the way the silly glitter still winked from his skin and hair even after the shower. Then there was the heart-melting way he would clearly do anything for Sam, the cute way he scowled but didn’t truly complain, the endearing way he had interrupted conversation with Castiel twice to check on his sleeping giant of a kid brother.

Words tumbled from his mouth. “No! Please. Dean, wait, please.”

_There’s no way this doesn’t end bloody for you. It always does._

He was having trouble catching his breath.

“Cas, look-“

But he stumbled to his feet, and lifted his chin in defiance, reining back in his former confidence. “No. No, you look. I want this. I want this, and so do you.”

Dean closed his mouth.

He hurried on. “You do! I saw you when we were making love, and-and I know you want this. You’re out of your waters, and I get that, but I can’t just let you...I’m falling in love with you, and I need to at least try, or I’ll never forgive myself! I have to try to convince you to-“

There was the kiss he had shied away from. Dean nearly lifted him off his feet in his apparent determination to turn Castiel’s brain to soup. The kiss, and the way Dean held him like he couldn’t get close enough, was the most sincere embrace of Castiel’s disastrous love life so far. His panicky mind couldn’t decide if it was the kiss or Dean’s strong arms crushing him which took his breath away.

The rest of his sentence rolled out weakly. “...let me love you,” he gasped.

Dean’s hands were on his face, on his shoulders, in his hair, touching like they hadn’t already had lovely sex twice already, like he couldn’t help himself.

The kisses kept coming, till Castiel tumbled back onto the bed in bewilderment.

At last, reluctantly, Dean let him up for air. “I do want this!” he confirmed. “God, Cas! I don’t belong, but I have never felt like this with anyone before. It felt like tearing my own heart out trying to get out of the bed just now, trying to walk away from you!”

It was exactly what Castiel had felt. His eyes were wide. “Then why did you?” he demanded.

Dean’s voice was faltering, so he gave up and just whispered at him. “I thought...Cas, I don’t know how I can possibly be part of your life! I don’t understand anything about it! I would just be pretending, and you deserve somebody who can be the real thing! Somebody who knows what the hell a Dior is!”

Without warning, Castiel burst into laughter. He wondered if he would ever catch the breath Dean had stolen. “I have plenty of those people in my life! What I need is you! You’re genuine and smart, and you make me laugh, and you like me in my dorky reading glasses, and you cry when you’re overwhelmed during sex, and you’re a mama bear with that enormous cub sleeping across the hall, and you’re the most beautiful piece of art I’ve ever seen! Part of my life? You’re worried about being part of my life? I’m terrified you’ll become my life! I’m already obsessing over you, Dean, and we’ve only known one another for two days and some change!”

Dean sat beside him, and held tight to his hands. Worry creased his handsome face. “I’ll embarrass you. It’ll be pretending. All the time.”

An idea sparked in Castiel’s giddy thoughts. “Give me a chance, Dean. I can do this. Making things work, that’s what I do. Just give me a chance. Will you? If it doesn’t work out, leave me, and at least I’ll know I did everything I could. But this connection is worth exploring, Dean. You feel it too. I know you do.”

A soft smile was his answer. “I do. I don’t know how we can even begin to make this into something real. But I want to try if you do.”

It was all Castiel needed. A chance. It’s all he would ever ask. Just like Sam’s opportunity to prove himself, this was Castiel’s big break, and he was not about to mess this up.


	8. Mannequin: The Reckoning

The condo was covered in fabrics and projects in every stage of production. Dean snickered as he let himself in. “Sammy?” he called. “You under there someplace?”

His brother looked over his shoulder. He had pins in his mouth, and a piece of cloth resting on his shoulder, and scissors in his hands. “Dean!” he huffed around his pins. He spat them onto the table in front of him. “Come on in. Just in time. Come put this vest on. I want to look at it with the cap.”

He couldn’t help smirking. If he had thought his time as Sam’s Ken doll was over nine months ago when he had spent a long weekend pretending to be a model, he was quite mistaken. It seemed that he would always be Sam’s first choice for dress up games.

He let the kid drape him, but he looked around anxiously.

Sam was back to speaking around pins. “He’s not home yet.”

Dean sighed. “I don’t know why not,” he sulked. “Gabe gave him a few hours today, didn’t he? Because he knew I’d be here?”

“The world revolves around Gabe’s whimsy. You know that. Hold still.”

He scowled a bit. “Your decor is creepy.”

Sam blinked at him, then glanced around the room. “Creepy?”

“Yeah. You live with mannequins, Sam. That’s not normal. It probably isn’t even healthy. This place is one British accent away from being a ninth Doctor episode.”

He snorted. “That’s what Gabriel calls you, you know,” he muttered.

“What? Creepy?”

Sam shook his head, and removed one of the two pins from his bite to press it into the fabric on Dean’s chest. “Castiel’s mannequin.”

Dean let his eyebrows shoot up. “What now?”

“Turn to the side. Other way.”

At least back home, Sam let him play his own music or watch television while he stood there dressing him. He sighed, and tried not to fidget. Well, sometimes you had to make your own fun. “What are you even doing here? I thought you had a day job.”

The bitchface Sam turned on him was worth the trouble. “This is my day job,” his muffled voice snarled. “I’m doing it.”

“Playing with dolls is a day job?”

“I’m the one with the pins, adjusting your crotch. You want my hand to slip, keep talking.”

“Please don’t,” a deep voice called from the door.

Sam threw his hands up and spat out his pins again in exasperation, when Dean pivoted jerkily. “This is why I live with mannequins! They hold still when I tell them to!”

Dean’s lover closed the door behind him and leaned against it with a content sigh and a tiny, pleased smile. He was in a smart blue cashmere sweater vest, over a white dress shirt and blue tie, atop custom-tailored charcoal pants that drew Dean’s gaze to his muscular thighs. The look was slim and sexy, and the effect on Dean was immediate. Perhaps there was something to this fashion thing after all.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel murmured, allowing the depth of his voice to carry his words rather than the volume.

It felt like a caress every time. Dean smiled back. “Hey, Cas.”

His lover crossed the room in two long strides, and revealed the flowers he had hid behind his back. He leaned in to kiss Dean gently on the cheek. “I’m sorry Gabriel kept me busy. I had planned to be here when you arrived.”

“It’s okay. But I like these.” He reached for the flowers, but Sam smacked his hand. “Hey! What?”

“Don’t touch anything while you have my work on! You get pollen or some crap on my vest, and I’ll damage you!”

Castiel held the flowers back. “Dean, I’m sometimes confused as to why you still help him.”

“Yeah. So am I.”

Sam gave them a smug look. “Dean? Who do you have to thank for meeting Castiel?”

Dean scowled. “And who do you have to thank for your plastic piece of crap car out there?”

“What’s your gas mileage again?”

Castiel was always a little amused by the pecking between the brothers. “My love, are you equating us meeting with Sam’s car payment?”

“Not-not equating exactly, just-Would you get off me?” he cried out in frustration.

Sam finished peeling him out of his design, and pushed him off the step stool. “I release you back into the wild. Go make good choices. Cas, what was the name of that place you said I should take Alicia to for our six month anniversary?”

Castiel was already staring into Dean’s eyes, but he responded quietly. “Culina. Four Seasons in Beverly Hills. I made your reservation for you three weeks ago. Seven o’clock. Leave plenty of time for traffic.” He glanced at his housemate then. “And, Sam, look. Don’t be a hero, okay? She’ll offer to pay, and you let her. She’s just going to bill Max’s charge account anyway, and have his accountant write it off as a business meeting.”

“Romantic,” Dean laughed.

Castiel shrugged. “It’s how it’s done. She’s a smart businesswoman, and she knows Sam is the Max Banes brand’s best new asset. The fact that she also enjoys Sam’s…”

“Assets?” Sam prompted with a gentle flush of pink around his cheekbones.

“Can’t hold that against her. Sam does have great assets.”

Dean’s face dropped into a frown. “Cas!”

Sam cackled, and slapped Castiel’s arm before hurrying off to his bedroom, the former guest room. “Thanks, Cas!”

“Good luck, Sam.”

Dean put his hands on his hips, and looked at his lover expectantly.

Castiel snickered, but leaned in with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, my love. It’s Sam.”

“Exactly! It’s Sam! My kid brother!”

“And my best friend. I’m allowed to prime his ego before he goes out on an anniversary dinner with his sweet but extremely intimidating girlfriend.”

Dean conceded the point. “Guess he can stand to have his ego stroked. So long as-“

“All other stroking will be reserved for you. You have my word,” he said, with utmost solemnity.

It was just twenty minutes after Sam had left the condo for his date that the two of them lay in bed, laughing contentedly. They were sweaty, lying naked below a slow-turning ceiling fan, letting their bodies cool and their heartrates calm.

Dean rolled onto his stomach and put his chin in his palm to gaze at his lover. “So Sam and Lady Banes are getting pretty serious.”

Castiel shrugged. He stretched lazily, and put his hands behind his head. “Seem to be. I’ve known Alicia Banes a long time. I’ve never seen her like this before. She’s smitten. She’s gone so far as to move her jewelry line’s structure so there isn’t the perception of her supervising Max’s hot new designer.”

“Don’t call my brother hot while I’m lying here naked with you.”

He received a quiet chuckle. “Sorry.”

“But she’s into him just as much as he is her. Right?”

Castiel’s small smile reached his blue eyes, and crinkled their corners. “Definitely. She’s in with both feet.”

Dean nodded slowly. He chewed on his lip, feeling the return of the anxiety which had accompanied him the entire drive this time. “Good. That’s good.”

There was the adorable, intelligent squint of Castiel trying to read without his glasses. “Is there anything other than the usual mama bear looking after the giant cub that makes you ask?”

He poked Castiel’s stomach, making him squirm with a laugh. “Stop calling me that! And no! I mean, yes! I was thinking about...Now that Sam’s getting deep into the business, and he’s making decent money…”

“If his line opens at Max’s anchor store in New York next month as expected, he’ll be doing far better than decent. Even Gabriel has been impressed with his tireless work ethic. He has me report on his progress almost daily at this point, and he’s thinking of doing a special edition spread on the premiere of his line-“

“Right. I mean...Good! That’s great. It’s just that, I mean, now that he’s doing well, and he’s even serious with this chick-“

A dark brow peaked. “This chick is one of the most celebrated artists and executives in the world of fine jewelry. She-“

Dean sighed in frustration. “Fine! I just mean he’s taken care of now, and-“

Castiel frowned. “Dean, he doesn’t need taking care of. He’s a truly talented designer. He may have had support, but he’s earned everything he’s-“

“I mean he’s fine, he doesn’t need me, and I can get married or something!”

The powerful chest beside him stilled as Castiel caught his breath.

Dean dropped his forehead into his palm now. “Dammit, Cas, you are the worst guy to try to propose to!”

There was a small noise in Castiel’s throat, but no other movement.

He looked up. “Cas?”

His lover was staring at him.

Dean’s own chest began to tighten. “Dude, you need to breathe. Gabe will kill me with his bare hands if you die.”

“You…” Castiel cleared his throat, and sat up. “You want to get married?”

He stared back. “Not if it means you don’t breathe right anymore. Are you okay?”

His lover, so dominant and confident in bed just minutes ago, seemed meek and terrified now. “You want to marry me?”

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck nervously as he sat up too. “Do people in the fashion world not do that? I don’t get the customs of your weird-ass culture.”

“Not with me!” Castiel saw Dean’s confusion, and hurried on. “I mean, yeah, of course people in high fashion get married. Just…not with me.”

A spike of panic drove through Dean’s heart. “You don’t want-“

“Of course I want to!” Castiel burst out. “Of course I do!”

Relief washed over him, but the confusion remained. “Then what…?”

“You want me long-term?”

Dean suddenly understood, and his heart was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to hold his guardian angel safe in his own arms forever. He never wanted Castiel to hurt or to doubt himself again. He took hold of the man’s hands, and looked into his eyes as he spoke. “Castiel Palladino, I want you forever. I want you every day and every night for the rest of my life. And I’m the one who deserves you, because I’m the only one who realizes no one could ever deserve you.”

Tears sparkled in clear blue eyes, and fear emanated from his lover. “Dean…”

“Cas, I have known I wanted you forever since that first weekend. Please don’t tell me you never felt that! How could you not feel that?”

The first tear slid down his cheek silently. “I was just grateful for the time we had. I figured you’d rip my heart out any minute now. Every time you drive away, I brace myself, remind myself it’ll probably be the last time I see you. Except that your brother is here, and…”

Everything in Castiel’s world was a trend. Everything was temporary, seasonal, gone in an instant. People in his world lived and loved hard and fast, because they knew the dangers in becoming attached. If they couldn’t keep up, they got left behind, and they wound up like last season’s bag.

Well, Dean wasn’t from that world.

“Cas? You know how we talk about art all the time, the stuff you collect, and the fashion stuff you work around, and you always put it in terms of classic cars for me?”

Castiel sniffed, and nodded.

“There’s nothing that could make me give up my Baby. Some things in your life, no matter what else comes and goes, you know you gotta hang onto, fight for. That car doesn’t age for me. She’s forty, going on fifty, and just as badass as the day she rolled off the line. When you find a piece of art that’s one of a kind, don’t you hold onto it for as long as you can?”

The stuttered sob gnawed at his heart.

“Oh, Cas.” He wrapped his arms around his lover carefully, and held him against his own chest. “Shh. Okay, baby. Look. Let me do it right, okay? Castiel, I love you. I’ll always love you. Will you marry me?”

A sobbing laugh was his answer. “I love you too, Dean. Of course I’ll marry you. You make me...so happy.”

Dean grinned. “Happier than good cheeseburgers?”

But Castiel nodded. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I love you more than cheeseburgers, Dean!” he wept.

Then they were both laughing, and kissing, and then they were making love again, slower this time, and Dean kept up a steady stream of reassuring, sweet words about how certain he was that Castiel was the only one for him, the only one who would ever feel like this.

***

Dean’s head lay on his arm, and Castiel combed his long fingers through cropped hair without tiring. He loved lying like this, with his heart beating against Dean’s warm back. He adored this man. The epiphany that Dean intended to keep him forever made the whole world seem brighter, more colorful, even in the dark. Everything was tinted that forest green of Dean’s eyes, like stained glass.

He listened to Dean’s even breath for a very long time. Eventually, he would have to get up and conduct some business for Gabriel, and then Sam would be home, and he would need to go check on how his evening had gone. He needed to return a phone call from Bella Talbot, and place an order for one of Gabriel’s young models who needed a rental car, and check on the winery’s reservation policy for above forty guests for the board meeting.

And he would have to tell Gabriel about Dean, that they were suddenly engaged. Gabriel had managed, over several months, to separate Dean from his memories of Michael. He liked Dean, and would be happy for them. Then he would declare himself their wedding consultant, and he would insist upon glitter everywhere, and champagne fountains, and everything else neither Dean nor Castiel could afford, and when Castiel pointed this out, his eccentric adoptive brother would insist on paying for a chunk of it himself, and then he would take over completely, and soon they would be taking their vows under a crystal chandelier in a Manhattan venue or on a yacht...

But for now, he just wanted to lie there and feel Dean breathing, and be happier than he had ever been in his life.

The rest of the world could wait a while. And, for a while, Dean and Castiel could rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are better than avocado toast! They keep me writing!!
> 
> ~Posing


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